


Home Is Where Your Horse Is

by surprisesurprise



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:33:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26537371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surprisesurprise/pseuds/surprisesurprise
Summary: The origin of Reggie's song, "Home is Where Your Horse Is". A Reggie-centric story pre-ghost story.
Relationships: Alex & Luke Patterson & Reggie (Julie and The Phantoms)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 157





	Home Is Where Your Horse Is

When things at Reggie’s house got to be too much—when the walls were closing in on him, of his already small house (a “ramshackle,” a “tear-down”, a “dump” as his parents would alternately call it), when he couldn’t possibly turn his walk-man up any louder, yet he still heard the name-calling, the accusations and insults that his parents flung back and forth at each other, he usually just left.

Tonight, the exit was a late-night one, both his parents were escalating it by the minute and the fight was nonsensical and chaotic and ugly. He couldn’t get on his Doc Martin boots on fast enough to get the heck out of there. Only after leaving did he think about where he might go.

The beach was right there. But despite living close to the ocean, he rarely felt at peace sitting on the beach. Honestly, he hated the sand. And the salty, shark-infested ocean was overrated. It wasn’t an opinion widely held by others, he knew that. People would give a lot to have the view and access he had to the LA beaches. But it wasn’t what spoke to Reggie. 

Secretly, what Reggie really wanted to see was the wide-open prairies of Oklahoma. Maybe Montana? Whichever one had cowboys and horses; Reggie shrugged to himself.

He could imagine how open and wide the world must look and feel from your horse, riding in that great expanse. Free. Away from everyone and everything. Just a man and his horse, self-reliant, strong, and fearless. Not bothered by anything.

He raised his arm quickly and with the back of his hand he wiped the tears that were forming at his eyes and tried to shake it all off.

As if on autopilot, Reggie found himself headed to the garage, though to sound impressive to others they usually told people it was the Sunset Curve studio. Luke had originally arranged to rent the garage cheap through some kid, whose parents were probably hard of hearing or hated their neighbors. Either way, any money they ever made on gigs seemed to go right back into the band, whether upgrading equipment or lights or paying the rental fee. Someday, they’d have a real studio. But no rush, thought Reggie. The garage is awesome.

When Reggie pulled open the doors, he wasn’t the least surprised to find Luke and Alex already there. 

“Practice without me?” Reggie asked, "I see how it is."

But of course, it was too late to be playing—they’d get the cops brought out for sure. Alex was sprawled out on the rug on the floor playing Street Fighter on the Nintendo he had hooked up to the 13-inch tv they had bought at a garage sale, to Luke’s dismay. He was afraid it would distract them from their music, but so far it hadn’t been a problem. It was just a nice diversion on nights like this, Reggie thought.

“Hey, Reg. You want to join in on the game?” asked Alex. He knew Alex was determined to beat the game solo using Blanka these days and Reggie didn’t want to mess up his groove he had going.

“No, dude, I’m cool, thanks.”

Alex had been spending lots of nights not at home, Reggie knew. Things were awkward at his house ever since he came out to them. And of course, Luke was here because of his home situation, just as, of course, Bobby was NOT here. 

Bobby had supportive parents who paid for music lessons for their son, and planned for him to be the next big thing. Reggie sorta suspected they thought he was too good for Sunset Curve and should pursue a solo career eventually but whatever. Lucky Bobby with good parents, thought Reggie with a grumble.

“There’s pizza, Reggie,” said Luke, who was thumbing through his song journal.

Reggie glanced over a the pizza, expecting it to have the dreaded onion, mushroom and olive combo he knew Luke and Alex were fans of. He knew that’s what they got when he wasn’t there. Only.

“Aww, you guys. It’s pepperoni. I love pepperoni.”

“We know,” said Alex.

“In case you were coming. I guess we were hoping you’d show up,” said Luke.

Reggie could suddenly feel his chest tighten. He may not feel his house was a loving place, but here, among Luke and Alex, he really could feel seen and cared for. He could feel loved. Okay, he admonished himself. Can’t get emotional about pizza, c’mon.

Reggie grabbed a slice of pizza and sat down on the couch with Luke, and watched Alex struggle through the game. He had beat it before using Chun Li, but Alex wanted a new challenge. When Reggie peered over the shoulder at the notebook Luke was clutching, Luke didn’t even pull it away, he let Reggie look on.

He read one of the lyrics out loud to question Luke, “My game is puke? I’m sorry, I don’t get it. I mean, I’m sure once I hear it…”

“My NAME is LUKE,” said Luke, frowning. “That’s what it says.”

“Oh, of course,” said Reggie, clearing his throat. “Clearly. I probably need glasses.”

“Luke, I told you before,” said Alex. “You have terrible handwriting.”

Luke ignored the comments, and continued to scribble in his journal, and Reggie just chilled on the couch, thinking how this was so much better than sitting at a beach, and probably just as good as a ranch in…Texas? That could be nice.

“I give up for tonight,” said Alex, eventually shutting off the tv and the game. “I’m bored and I stopped caring.” He was not bored, thought Reggie. He had been frustrated and disappointed but he often had a funny way of denying what it was so obvious he was feeling. And usually Reggie and Alex let him, amused by this quirk. Reggie and Luke made quick eye contact and shared a slight smile about it, like they most often did.

Alex motioned for Reggie to throw him a pillow and throw blanket from the couch and then he made himself a bed right there on the floor. He was passed out in minutes.

“Guess Alex is staying here,” said Reggie.

“Me, too,” said Luke. “I don’t want to go home tonight, my parents were just giving me more grief about what a disappointment I am and how I need to continue my education blah, blah, blah. Music is a dead end, they said. I’m throwing everything away. They pretty much think I suck.”

Reggie locked eyes with Luke, and nodded sympathetically. “They’re wrong.”

Luke shrugged and looked away. 

Reggie patted Luke’s knee, “I’m going to stay, too, tonight. No one will miss me.” He then grabbed the last remaining pillow, and slid down from the couch on to the floor, landing directly beside the couch and not far from the now gently snoring Alex. Luke sprawled out on the couch, curling an arm under his head to try to get comfortable. With his other hand he hugged the songwriting journal close to his chest, teddy bear style.

Reggie closed his eyes, listened to the sound of his friend sleeping, and trying to block out any thoughts of what his mom and dad might be doing right now. Did they notice he left? Probably not. 

Luke suddenly was leaning down and looking at Reggie. “Hey, I know things get bad at your house, and I’m sorry. But we just need to stay focused. Keep doing what we love. We can’t let all that other stuff get in the way of what we have here.”

Reggie stared into Luke’s eyes.

“Each other,” Reggie whispered with a smile.

“Yeah, each other. The band. Our music. We are going to make it big, Reggie, you’ll see. I believe in us.”

Luke got himself resituated on the couch and Reggie folded his arms behind his head and stared up into the rafters, letting his mind drift to memories of the last few concerts they had played and how fans had reacted. He let himself fantasize about playing a larger venue, like The Orpheum, and how he would feel.

Exhilarated. Alive. Free.

Like, A cowboy? Like as good as when a cowboy rides his horse and they are free, together?

“This band’s like my horse,” said Reggie. “Our friendship’s like my horse. I feel free from all the other stuff when I’m with you guys, ad especially when we're playing.”

No one answered him, of course, because they were sleeping, but Reggie smiled to himself and got up, retrieved a piece of paper and pen from a table in the back. He’d write a song about it, he figured. About home. Not the ramshackle, tear-down, dump that housed his arguing and unhappy family, but home. Home in the garage, with his guitar, his music, his bandmates—his friends, his brothers.

Home is where your horse is, he started.


End file.
